


Blood Ties

by alliedwolves



Series: Homestuck shorts are Hotpants [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gangs AU, Gen, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedwolves/pseuds/alliedwolves
Summary: A vampiric gang war drabble





	Blood Ties

Vampires aren't the Fae. They don't have to accept oaths that bind, don't have to be honest in their deals with the weaker humankind that make up their prey. They don't have to play Fair, not being fair folk. There are two gangs in this crowded, dark city. One that remembers that, one that doesn't. When you meet them in a dark alley, though, you might not care either way. 

 

The Serkets are like spiders, laying traps, and loitering nearby, waiting for people to wander in and bamboozle them with magic. One of them is very young, less than thirty years old. You might think she has sympathy. She's hoping you do. After all, that only makes it far more likely that you'll relax into the glamour she's placing on you. 

 

The Makaras are very old. Fewer and fewer people meet the Highblood's standards of integrity, and get consumed long before they can be admitted to the clan. He remembers the oldest days, and without his glamour, his thick and perfect paint, he doesn't look human at all. There are whispers that the glamour is a part of him now, that he layers different faces on top of his first false one like curling, crumbling paint. 

 

Since vampires can usually recognise their own kind, and Vriska Serket had dragged the Highblood out into an alley with no idea who he was, perhaps those rumours are true. He's larger, without the top layer of befuddlement, but he's still shaking humanity off like a wet dog might. 

 

She leaps for him, teeth embedding themselves into his neck and her weight sufficient to send him falling into the bins. Lawlessness and traps and nets have always been her clan's type, and she jumps clear of the Highblood as he recovers, throwing down eight cups of rice to give her time to run. The Makaras play fair. He'll count each grain, faster than any human can see. She wouldn't unless she knew there were 8 cups. Some things are about style. 

 

She's bought herself enough time to scoop up an unregarded street dweller on her way back to the safety of her clan's territory. No doubt the Makaras will make a formal complaint, and a formal challenge, and no doubt the Serkets will laugh.

 


End file.
